


Time Out

by elliebird



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: Welp,this happened.





	Time Out

Armie takes a perverse sort of pleasure in opening his mouth and letting whatever he’s thinking spill out. It’s a habit Elizabeth has somewhat successfully tempered, reining him in knowing full well that Armie is letting her. Theirs is a relationship built on an exchange of power that works for both of them. 

His mouth has gotten him into a little more trouble these days and he blames it on the sheer smug satisfaction he gets from Timmy’s reactions. Timmy responds with his entire body, his face lighting up in shocked delight, curving in on himself like he’s trying to contain his laughter. There’s very little that gets him going the way making Timmy laugh does. 

Timmy’s spent the morning laughing, hours of filming that might have taken a little less time if Armie had stuck to the script instead of making inappropriate comments, profanity slipping from his mouth before he could think better of it, just for the way Timmy dissolved into a helpless kind of laugh that made Armie want to strut about preening. 

Getting a laugh out of Timmy isn’t a feat. Timmy’s so quick to find amusement and joy in the world around him that his laughs are a dime a dozen. But when Armie’s doing it, he turns a becoming shade of pink and goes all loose limbed and soft. Armie doesn’t take it for granted. He hopes he never runs out of opportunities to watch Timmy’s face light up with glee and a little shock because Armie is completely shameless and has no qualms about dropping f-bombs and sprinkling profanity about if the reward is as sweet as this one. 

The director of their series of promotional videos finally threw up his hands and sent them off for lunch. They have an hour to themselves before a series of photoshoots, individually and with Luca, and they’re making use of it by making out like teenagers, sequestered behind a locked door in the abandoned office being used for makeup and hair. 

Armie reaches for Timmy immediately, slipping his hands beneath his sweater to finally touch him. He has the sexiest fucking body, even hidden away like it is under his obscenely overpriced cashmere sweater. Armie touches bare skin, the soft slope of Timmy’s belly beneath his fingertips. 

Timmy’s still a little giggly, flushed with amusement and when Armie raises a questioning eyebrow, he just laughs harder and says, “you’re such a dick,” looking delighted by it. 

He _can_ be a dick. It’s no secret. Armie doesn’t have the patience or time for bullshit and he spends much more of his life these days being blunt and real. 

He gives away a secret then, leaning against the desk and pulling Timmy between his open thighs. “I like making you laugh,” he says, doing his best to keep all the sappy fondness from his voice. It doesn’t matter, Timmy knows from the wide-eyed softness in his expression. 

Armie has the luxury of fucking off at these things. He knows it and he does his best not to take it for granted. Timmy’s in the beginning stages of a career that relies on likeability and image. He takes it all in with a contagious wonder and none of the cynicism that Armie’s earned after nearly a decade of selling his sole for roles. If Armie can take some of the pressure off now, while they’re still wrapped up in promo, and put a little levity into what could quickly become tedium, he’s happy to sacrifice himself to it. And what a sacrifice it is, he muses, being paid in sweet, laughing kisses and hands gripping his arms beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. 

“We should eat,” Armie says, the words not at all convincing as he speaks them against Timmy’s lips, drinks the catch in Timmy’s throat as he dips his tongue into the heated secrets of Timmy’s mouth, tasting the flesh of his lower lip. 

Timmy’s lips part and Armie takes the permission, licks right inside where he knows every detail, every place to touch and stroke with the tip of his tongue for the reactions he gets. Finding Timmy’s tongue will get him a restless thrust of hips, looking for friction. Licking the roof of that sweet, heated mouth will get him fingers in his hair and a breathless sound that always gets him rock hard. He traces the plush softness just inside where Timmy’s vulnerable, tasting and drinking in every slip of sound Timmy can’t help. 

Timmy is quiet during sex. Even during that very first time Armie spent a sweaty, hot Crema afternoon opening Timmy up enough to take just the head of his cock. Timmy spent the entire time trying to hold himself back, every sound wrung from him like he couldn’t help it. Armie, who gets off on talking during sex, finds Timmy’s reticence to be noisy intensely sexy. 

Timmy tastes sweet, like the expensive vanilla mints Elizabeth buys him, the flavor sharp on his tongue and inherently sexy knowing his wife is the reason for it. 

There are hands clinging to him, long, slender fingers digging into his arms and holding on. Timmy’s rubbing himself against Armie’s thigh, his cock hard despite this being nowhere near the time or place. 

This is his fault, he thinks, both smug and amused. He eases the kiss from fifth gear, gentling his lips, withdrawing bit by bit until he’s just sipping at the seam of Timmy’s lips and swallowing his breaths. 

After a moment, he buries his nose against Timmy’s throat, the height difference minimized from Armie’s position against the desk. He traces his fingers down the dip of Timmy’s spine, stroking him above the waist of his jeans where he’s soft and sensitive. 

Something about the way Timmy smells tugs at his memory. It’s familiar, a clean, sharp scent that reminds him of Grand Cayman, of sipping rum out of frosted glasses and napping beneath the shade from a grove of trees. 

After a beat, it hits him square in the gut with his nose pressed to Timmy’s flesh and his hands touching the bare skin of his hips. Timmy smells like him. Like the shampoo he uses, the expensive soap for sensitive skin that has appeared like magic every day since the day he and Elizabeth moved in together. 

Armie can’t even rein in the possessive growl, a thrill that’s base and barbaric. “You smell like me,” he says, nosing in underneath Timmy’s ear and inhaling deeply. 

Timmy flushes. “Elizabeth sent them to me,” he says, almost defensive like he’s unsure of Armie’s reaction. 

Of course. Elizabeth takes great pleasure in orchestrating everything from elaborate first year birthday parties to her friends’ love lives and it makes perfect sense that she’d send Timmy the things Armie uses. They know each other inside and out from their deepest secrets and desires to the way they take their coffee and their In-N-Out order. Of course Elizabeth knows what it would do to him to spend a day with Timmy smelling just like him. 

To hell with all of Armie’s good intentions. He rocks his hips up off the desk and takes all of Timmy’s surprise and want into his mouth. Timmy doesn’t know how to hold himself back. He melts immediately underneath Armie, his hands clutching Armie’s t-shirt in fists, his hips canted forward in a display of wanton need. 

Taking Timmy apart is his favorite fucking thing these days and he’s a prick for doing this now, with a half dozen people waiting for them to come back to work and be professional. 

“Timmy,” Armie says roughly. It fucks him up, the way he constantly wants to take care of Timmy and completely wreck him. 

Armie fists a handful of Timmy’s curls and not-so-gently tugs his head back. He’s demanding with Timmy, selfish and constantly hungry. It works. Timmy’s into being manhandled but more than that Armie’s smug with the knowledge that he’s into Armie and it usually translates into their needs and desires and downright kinks aligning almost seamlessly. 

“Oh fuck.” Timmy’s wide eyed, his pink lips full and kiss-bruised. The language of his body, the arch of his hips seeking and begging, say more than any words could. 

He kisses Timmy’s mouth open, slick and wet and not nearly as aggressive as he would like. 

“I’m sorry, I’m a selfish fucking bastard,” he says finally, lifting his head and putting the space between them he needs to be able to go back out and finish his job. “When we’re done here,” he says quietly, gentling his touch and stroking Timmy’s back, “I’m going to spend all night giving you what you need.” 

Timmy flushes but the grin he gives him is full of filthy promise. He lifts his chin, an eyebrow raised. “Promise?”

Armie’s own smile slips from admiring right into dominant. He doesn't say anything, trusts that Timmy knows the answer. 

Armie knows how to take care of him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com/) where I have daily meltdowns over Armie and Timmy.


End file.
